Malekith's hand slowly descended, the air seemed to be sucked out, and the purple electric netting in the entire armory hall suddenly contracted, as if even time itself was being strangled by this oppressive feeling. Ye Mo leaned against the edge of the stone platform, his right leg completely numb, and only half of the Steel Bone in his left arm remained, like a charred steel bar stuck in his shoulder. He could feel the black flames between his ribs still drilling deeper, and a tingling, burning pain came from beneath his skin, as if ants were gnawing at his bones.
Three Dark Elves closed in simultaneously, the tips of their spears no more than three inches from his throat. The eerie blue firelight reflected in his pupils, blinding him. Their steps were synchronized, their breathing in unison; they didn't seem like living beings at all, but rather like killing programs mass-produced from a machine.
But just as the spear tip moved forward another half inch, Ye Mo moved.
It wasn't dodging, nor was it a counterattack—it was slamming his consciousness hard into the second level of the Gene Spiral Tower. There lay a fragment he had barely managed to activate after seven attempts: ** Self-Healing) **, originating from a Mutants's severed finger he had found in an abandoned laboratory, which, according to the system notification, was suspected to have come from "that talkative mercenary."
He doesn't have time to worry about its origins; all he hopes for now is that it doesn't break down.
"System... you really have to save me this time." He growled, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against a wall. He didn't even know who he was saying this to; he was used to blaming the system whenever something went wrong, even though the system never responded.
The next second, his body exploded.
The moment his Self-Healing ability activated, it wasn't comfortable, it was painful. More painful than being corroded by black flames. The feeling was like someone was using an electric drill to dig out rotten tissue from your flesh, sprinkling salt as they dug. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and slammed the remaining Steel Bone in his left hand into the ground, his five fingers digging into the metal plate, stubbornly pinning himself to the ground to prevent himself from revealing any weakness due to convulsions.
His skin began to twitch. The severed capillaries reconnected one by one, and the muscle fibers rewove like a spider web. The most dangerous part was the nerve in his right leg; at the severed point, it felt like two electrical wires were frantically trying to connect, each attempt bringing a jolt of electric shock-like pain. But he endured it, his forehead pressed against the cold stone edge, cold sweat trickling down his temples, dripping onto the Vibranium fragments with a soft "sizzling" sound.
The three Dark Elves paused for a moment. They had probably never seen anything like it before—a dying man actually "repairing" himself right under their noses.
It was in that very moment.
Ye Mo suddenly looked up, his eyes had changed. They were no longer the disorientation of someone on the verge of death, but the fierceness of a predator pouncing. Although the Steel Bone in his left arm was damaged, it could still support him. Using the Steel Bone stuck in the ground as a fulcrum, he sprang up like a spring. Although his right leg had not fully recovered, it could still barely bear weight.
He neither charged nor fled.
Instead, it charged directly at the two warriors on the left who had just finished throwing their spears and were recharging.
They reacted quickly, immediately parrying with their spears. But Ye Mo had no intention of engaging in a direct confrontation. As he rolled, he flung out a piece of Vibranium hidden in his boot—a scrap the size of a fingernail, which he had taken from Klaue and kept as a backup plan.
The shard struck the tip of one of the men's spears, and the low temperature was instantly transmitted.
The black flames went out with a "poof," as if doused with cold water. In the fraction of a second the soldiers were stunned, Ye Mo had already crashed into the blind spot of the formation, using a shoulder charge and an elbow strike to break through the defenses of two men. The movements weren't exactly clean and crisp, as his muscles were still rebuilding, making his movements a bit sluggish, like an old robot stuck with lubricant, but it was enough.
He didn't pursue, nor did he linger in the fight. After tearing open the gap, he immediately retreated to his original position, leaning against the ruins, his chest heaving violently. Regeneration continued, but the speed had clearly slowed down, like a phone being limited after it reached 80% charge.
The Dark Elves quickly filled in, and the formation closed again. They didn't rush to attack, but instead re-established a diamond formation, locking onto him from all sides. The previous surprise attack had made them realize that this guy couldn't be fought the way they expected.
Ye Mo looked down at his ribs. The traces of the black flame corrosion had mostly faded, and the new skin had a pale silver sheen, like freshly sprayed metallic paint. He reached out and touched it; the texture was a bit strange, like someone else's skin that hadn't quite stuck to his body yet. His right leg was also better; at least it no longer made a "crunching" sound when he stepped on it.
He grinned, a rather unsightly smile, "Fine, at least I can die standing up."
Steel Bone extended from his arms to his shoulder blades. He manually reassembled the defensive structure, rearranging the remaining metal components to form a rudimentary but adequate layer of armor. He was skilled at this; it was a skill he honed in repairing bicycles during his university years. He never imagined he'd use it to repair himself.
The purple netting overhead dimmed a bit more, like a death knell. He knew the next attack wouldn't be a probe; it would be a full-scale annihilation.
But he didn't want to kneel.
He stared at the nearest Dark Elves, whose eyes were hidden in the shadows of bone armor, revealing no emotion. But Ye Mo knew that the elf's fingers had trembled slightly when it saw him Self-Healing. It was an instinctive fear, a terror of "immortality."
Humans fear ghosts not because ghosts are powerful, but because ghosts shouldn't be alive.
He was the same. He wasn't a hero, nor was he the chosen one; he was just an unlucky guy who transmigrated and survived by picking up fragments of other people's abilities. But now, he had to make these guys understand one thing—
You want me to lie down?
I'm going to stand here anyway.
He took a deep breath; the air still carried the smell of burnt metal and the lingering stench of black flames. He raised his chin, faced the Dark Elves pressing down on him again, and took a step forward.
The soles of the boots scraped against the metal floor, making a harsh, screeching sound.
"Come on!" he roared, his voice hoarse but filled with brute force. "Weren't you going to use me as a sacrifice? Do it!"
Before the words were even finished, spears rose up from all directions at once, their black flames reigniting at the tips, crackling and popping in the air, the sound of energy charging like the discharge of high-voltage electricity.
He didn't back down.
Instead, they took another step forward.
The Steel Bone hummed beneath his skin, his Regeneration abilities entering a cooling-off period. There were no notification sounds in his brain; he had to rely entirely on experience to determine the next interval. He knew that if he took another heavy blow, he might not be able to stand up again.
But he didn't care.
At least for now, he's still standing.
At least for now, he can still stand in front.
At least for now, Emma Frost and Thor still have time.
He glanced at the crack on the west side out of the corner of his eye—the Thor had smashed open. He knew they were still there, and even if he couldn't contact them, he believed they could hold on. The longer he dragged things out, the more opportunities they had.
Purple light danced on his face, casting a long shadow that resembled a knife stuck diagonally in the ground.
In the distance, two more Dark Elves emerged from the passage, each wielding a thicker spear, its shaft shrouded in even deeper black mist. They had come to finish them off.
Ye Mo stretched his shoulders, Steel Bone vibrated at a low frequency. He raised his left arm, and the remaining Steel Bone Shield unfolded. Although it was only half a shield, it was enough to block for a moment.
"Alright," he said in a low voice, seemingly directed at no one, "It's fixed, let's get back to work."